


We Have No Kings Here

by Eishexe



Category: Black Sails, Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1768993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eishexe/pseuds/Eishexe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where do pirates end up when they die?</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Have No Kings Here

" _Six hours! We'll do them yet...!_ "

It is a funny set of words to be your last.  
But the last of Captain Billy Bones they had been.   
Struck down by a stroke he was, and a second one at that.  
Wasn't how he wanted, but seven hells he couldn't really complain, could he?  
It had been quick, for all its ordinary tone.

He'd done it to himself really and maybe that had been his plan all a long.  
To drink himself to death, far from the reach of the sea.  
The old maid would never have let him die upon her waves.  
The old sea dog had tested that theory right and left for  _years_.   
She wouldn't let him go and he'd been forced to usurp her efforts the slow way.

But the actual moment of it occurring, wasn't so slow now was it?  
Quick like a blade to the throat or a canon ball catching you at your middle.  
He'd seen that happen to a man once.  
There one second whole and skittering.   
The next in untold bits of flesh and twitching.

He feels heavier than he rightly ever thought he would.  
Adding to the burden that had fallen to him so long ago.  
The importance of the task sinking into the tide that carries him away.  
Billy Bones is long gone by the time his body strikes the ground.  
Long gone before the weeping of a little boy fills the air with soft shuttering cries.

It is a funny thing death.   
The way he knew men to fear it.   
He'd assumed it something far worse than this.  
No light, no dark, no joy, no sorrow, just an endless nothing.  
Swaying in an invisible and untouchable current.

He has no true sense of what is or isn't happening.  
Of what was, what is, or what could be.  
A sleep though aware of the fact he is sleeping.  
But then a prick, a small thing on the edge of his existence.   
A light that teases at his vision, and it only grows.

Grows into something warm and bright and sturdy.   
Like the sun high in the sky on a clear day.   
Shining down upon him lying on the deck.  
Letting the hot Carribean sun dry him off after diving for oysters.  
A chore he once enjoyed when he'd been bo'sun upon a long lost ship called the _Walrus._

If this is death well, Billy wouldn't argue with it.  
It was just the thing his weary bones needed.   
A little true rest.   
A little true peace.  
A little true to quiet.   


**"** Oi lad!   
                You just gonna lay there?  
                                Pissin' the day away? **"**

Well so much for the peace and quiet.   
He stirs, the understanding that he's got limbs--a body--becoming clearer.  
And none to soon eyes as blue as the sea he so loves, flicker open.   
The sun glaring down around a dark shadow.  
It blinds him and a hand comes up to block the unrelenting light.

A worn out heart that shouldn't be beating skips.  
A lonely, soul quakes in recognition as he slowly gains his feet.  
A weathered, face. Bright coal eyes. The comforting smell of leather, rum and sea water.

__ ** { ** _ The old man. _ ** } **

A disbelieving smile stretches across his face.  
One that no longer carries the weight of a long hard life.  
No longer carries the pain no man should ever have to.  
The sun hold no candle to the brightness of the lop-sided grin.  
Blue eyes that for so long brewed like a storm, lightened and danced.

__ ** { ** _ Gates. _ ** } **

**"** Aye.... **"**

The word is breathed amid an uncontrollable burst of laughter.  
Gaze streaking about him.  
The sails of the _Walrus_ full with the wind.   
The crew he had never thought to lay eyes upon again.   
Scurrying about the deck like rabbits caught sent of a wolf.

**                        { ** _ Home. _ ** } **

****"**** Get you're deck in order bo'sun.  
                              We've a prize to catch. **"**

Gates' words are stern but there's a glint in his eye.   
One that gives it all away he's as glad to see Billy as Billy is him.  
A calloused hand finding the bo'sun's shoulder giving it a solid shake.  
One that says everything that needs saying.  
One that tells him everything is alright.

This was their heaven. 

                                _Their nation of thieves._

**Their freedom.**  
  
  And **no** man.               
              **Mad** or sane.  
                        **King** or peasant.         
                                  **Would** ever **take it** from them.    
                                                                          **Ever.   Again.**

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated!


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